The Process
by Goldeniki
Summary: Zoeyl, a Seven, gets entered in the Selection. Will she be the One? Or will she find someone else?
1. Chapter 1

All credit to Kiera Cass for writing The Selection.

"Zooooee! Wake up, Zooee!"

A, loud insistent whisper woke Zoeyl up. It was, of course, her younger sister, Isla. She loved Isla to the moon and back, but the younger sibling could definitely be a handful. Zoeyl briefly considered pretending to be asleep, but rolled over sluggishly when she pictured her little sister.

"Zooee, Zooee, Zooee, guess what!" Isla whispered in her loud stage whisper.

"Iz, Iz, Iz, what?" whispered Zoeyl, imitating Isla.

"Ama brought home a treat for us! Come on!" Ama was their mother. Other people often thought that "Ama" was short for "Mama," but in the Freedman household they went by first names. Ama's full name was Amaya, but her whole family shortened it to Ama, just like they made Zoeyl into Zooee.

In the dim light of the setting sun, Zoeyl could see Isla's shiny hazel eyes, and they were so eager that she groaned and sat up, slipping her feet into some ragged pink slippers. "Treats" were rare, so she understood the little girl's excitement. Her mother and father were Seven's, making times hard and money scarce. She wondered what this treat could possibly be.

Zoeyl and Isla slipped into the living room just as the sun's last rays disappeared from sight. The older girl worked during the night, collecting trash from around the nice neighborhoods where Threes and some richer Fours lived. She had just been allowed to work over a year ago, when she turned sixteen, but all her life she had been looking at the jobs for Sevens. Ama sat on the beaten up couch, chugging a bottle of water. She smiled when she saw her girls. Behind her back, Zoeyl could see two boxes wrapped in brown paper, one long and wide and the other small. Isla ran to give Ama a hug, then swooped behind her and grabbed the boxes.

"Which one for me?" she asked.

"The small one." Ama replied, smiling. A tiny pout formed on Isla lips. It was obvious that she wanted the larger box. But when she ripped off the paper and opened the box, the pout morphed into a look of surprise, then of happiness. She ran and gave Ama another hug, then jumped over to Zoeyl, holding out the box for her older sister to see.

"Put it on for me, Zooee?" she asked softly. Inside the box was a gorgeous silver necklace with a tiny pendant shaped into a sun. Zoeyl's breath caught; she couldn't even imagine where Ama had gotten this thing of beauty, and of _price._

"But of course, my little Iz." she said, picking up the necklace from it's box and laying it around Isla's slim neck. She fastened the delicate clasp and stepped back to admire her sister. Isla walked slowly to the family's single mirror in their single bathroom, and stared at herself for a minute, seemingly in a reverie. Then, remembering the second box, she turned and hopped into the living room, her cheerful, lively self once again.

"Zooee, come open your box!" she said excitedly. Zoeyl slowly walked toward the offered box. If Isla had gotten a silver necklace, the older girl couldn't imagine what she would be receiving. And- well, she knew this was extremely selfish, but- she couldn't help hoping that hers was as good, or better.

"Zooee!" Zoeyl grabbed the box from her wildly gesturing sister and slowly unwrapped it, opening the large, flat box as the paper fell away. She once again caught her breath. Inside, a light green fabric shimmered. She looked up at Ama, eyes wide. Ama nodded her head, telling her daughter to take it out. Fingers trembling, Zoeyl pinched the fabric between her two fingers. It was even softer than she had expected. In one swift motion, she pulled it out of the box completely. A soft thud; Isla had dropped the doll she was holding, eyes humongous and mouth open.

"No." whispered Zoeyl.

The dress was stunning, different shades of pearlescent spring green and cut-out shoulders. Looking up at Ama again, she saw her mother looking proud and content. Ama tilted her head down, gesturing at the box and smiling. Looking down, Zoeyl saw that there was still something else still in the box. Bending down while cradling the dress, she saw that it was… No, it couldn't be! She thought that came later! But no, it surely and truly was… A form for the Selection!


	2. Chapter 2

Zoeyl lay in her bed, thinking. She could hear Isla breathing on the bunk below her. She had gone to work the night before, as always, but had to force herself to think about collecting trash; her brain kept wandering back to the dress. The Selection had always been a hazy dream, far in the distance. But now, it was right there, like she could touch it. Palpable. She knew that only a few girls got Selected, and her chances were slim. But everyone said that she was beautiful, and she _was_ skinny. But could she really? Her eyes started to drift closed. Her last thought as she closed them completely was… _America._

Everyone everywhere knew of the beautiful woman who was queen of Illéa. She had risen out of Five-dom, winning the handsome Maxon's heart, and with it the throne. They were old now, but their son, Owen, was still young. The same age as Zoeyl, now that she thought of it.

The next day brought an onslaught of surprises. It had been years since the last Selection, and no one in the Freedman family had thought about it too much. Zoeyl stepped out into the living room dressed in her trash-collecting clothes and glanced at the clock mounted on the wall to see how much time she had to eat.

"Five o' clock?!" she squealed. She was supposed to be at work at half past three. Ama had let her sleep in… a lot! Zoeyl grabbed an apple from the counter, intending it to be her breakfast, when Isla tugged on her hand and pulled her back into the bedroom.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school, little monkey?" asked Zoeyl. Isla just pushed her into the shower and darted away, squealing "Interview day!"

To determine the Selected, every girl had to have an interview, giving her name, a headshot, hobbies, etc. The better the interview went, the better chance you had. And most often the Selected girls had a nice headshot. All the girls who had put there names in got the day off work. And of course, had to be every girl tried to be in tip-top shape for their interview, to better their chances.

Zoeyl showed, washing herself with the raspberry-orange soap reserved for special occasions. She dried off and smoothed simple, unscented lotion over her body. She did her hair in her signature best, a french twist, and applied some dark kohl on her waterline and lids. Finishing off the look, she dabbed some light pink gloss on her lips. Wow, she felt amazing! She opened her dresser, riffling through the few clothes she had and trying to find the nicest. She settled on a deep orange skirt which popped against her tan skin, and layered a grey tunic top over it. Giving herself a once-over, she deemed herself passable, if not rather stunning, and stepped out into the living room, where Ama and Isla awaited.

"Wow!" cried Isla when she caught sight of Zoeyl. Ama, being more reserved and practical, gave a slight smile, nodding in approval, and said, "You look nice." Together, the females of the family walked to the pop-up interview center just over a block away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey loyal readers! Sorry that I've been writing pretty short chapters. I prefer to get more short ones out in a week (rather than one long one). Tell me which version you prefer in the reviews! I haven't updated in awhile… sorry about that, too. Let's go! :)**

The interview booth was not very high tech, as it hadn't been used in years. But they were serving cold cucumber water, which was an unexpected (and well-received) luxury. Zoeyl felt pretty, but also self-conscious. She was used to wearing long, baggy clothing when she went trash collecting. Still, she was excited. Really excited. No one had really seen the young prince, as he had been away fighting in France for a while, but rumors said that he was beautiful.

Zoeyl's heart was racing as she approached the front of the line. She felt a tug in her gut, and was trying to decide whether to be herself, her poor, nerdy, bookish self, or to say "the right thing," to better her chances and make her the perfect prospect for the prince. Girl after girl passed Zoeyl, walking back to wherever they came from. The line in front of her became shorter and shorter. Zoeyl thought she would get more nervous as she reached the front, but this did not happen. Instead, a strange sense of calm came over her, like the eye of the tornado. She looked back at Isla and Ama, the former jumping up and down and waving. Three girls… two… one… and it was Zoeyl's turn! Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the heavy purple curtains.


End file.
